Harry knew, rationally, that he must have died.

But he still had feeling. His left hand was still tightly gripping another.

He felt like he was being squeezed into a tube, much like apparition, but the experience was more pleasant and lasted far, far longer.

Eventually, after what must have been minutes, he saw a distant light, almost like a lighthouse. It grew larger and larger in his field of view.

And his retina was filled with blinding golden light. The hand in his squeezed back.

The next moment, he was on his feet again.

Harry found himself in an empty Gryffindor Common Room. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was bleeding out on a forest floor on top of a dead Hermione and the three Deathly Hallows burning in his possession.

He turned his head a little and there she was.

'Hermione?'

Her face bore a shocked expression. A dictionary was in her hand. 'Harry? Is that you?'

'It is me,' Harry replied.

'I thought…I thought I died,' she said softly, 'How am I seeing you?'

Harry was stunned. 'Do you…do you also remember…'

'I remember everything, Harry,' Hermione answered emotionally in her younger voice. Harry could see tears in her eyes. 'We were twenty-four, married. Ron betrayed us to the Death Eaters. We were fighting around twenty of them. We killed maybe seven or eight, but then we both got cursed.'

'Are we dead?'

'No,' Harry answered firmly in the negative. Somehow, he was sure, even though he did not know how.

'What happened?'

Harry remembered the strange occurrence with the Hallows and what his last memory had been when he died.

'I'm not sure, exactly. I know a few things, but I don't want to talk about it in the middle of the Common Room.'

'You're right,' Hermione replied. She checked her watch. 'Oh, fuck! It's November 23rd, 1994! Wasn't that the day before – '

'The First Task,' Harry finished for her.

Hermione's jaw dropped. 'We came back in time?'

Harry nodded. It was the only possible explanation. Everything felt too…real…for them to be dead and for this to just be a hallucination.

'You're going to face a bloody dragon tomorrow!' Hermione cried suddenly, frightened.

'I expected you to question more about how we came back in time, honestly,' Harry said, bemused.

'I will! But that's not important right now!' she shrieked, 'You've got the fucking First Task tomorrow! This isn't the time!'

Harry stepped up to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 'We're really twenty-four, Hermione. If we retained our memories, I'd hazard a guess that we retained our magic, too.'

Harry drew his wand and pointed it at a scrap of parchment. He cast a complex series of transfigurations that turned it into a large statue, then animated it to repeatedly slap itself in the face before charming it to repair itself immediately after each slap. Even Hermione had to chuckle in amusement.

She then pulled out her own wand and transfigured a broken quill into a koala, then charmed it to perform a series of awe-inspiring dance moves, before vanishing it using a special, highly complex vanishing spell designed for animals.

'I think my guess was right,' Harry observed, 'Let's forget preparing for the First Task, then. Probably the only person in this castle who knows more magic than us is bloody Dumbledore.'

Hermione smiled. 'Sounds good to me. I'd love to just spend some time with my husband.'

'We're still married, then?' Harry asked stupidly.

Hermione looked amused. 'If you want us to be.'

Harry took her around the waist and kissed her passionately. 'I most definitely want us to be,' he said as he came up for air, 'But this time, we'll do it right. Ring, ceremony, honeymoon, everything.'

'I love you, Mister Potter, my husband,' she said with a small giggle.

'And I love you, too, Miss Granger, my wife.'

Hermione blushed. Even in the light provided by the dying fire, he could see her face grow vividly pink. Harry was relieved to see her rosy cheeks again. In the past few years, her face had more often than not been a bone-white death mask.

They cuddled in silence for a few minutes in front of the warm fireplace, feeling content just to be alive with each other, however that had happened. For Harry, there was no greater gift in the world.

'About tomorrow,' Hermione said suddenly, breaking the silent cuddle, 'As much as I hated it when you were flying around that dragon on your Firebolt, I think you have to do it the way you did it the…uh…last time around.'

'Why?' Harry asked, curious, 'I know a million better ways to do it now. I can even just Avada Kedavra the Horntail if I wanted to.'

'Don't be stupid,' Hermione reprimanded sharply.

'Okay, I was joking. I know I can't cast the Killing Curse on the dragon, but if I just use the vanishing spell you used earlier on the koala…'

'And what will you say when they ask you where you learned such an advanced spell?' Hermione pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Harry's smile faded. 'You're right,' he conceded, 'I'll just have to do what I did last time.'

'I don't like it either,' Hermione murmured, 'But we don't have more time to plan, and we can't arouse suspicion with you casting spells you shouldn't even have heard of.' She threw her hands into the air. 'Oh, fucking hell, and we can't sit around and let everything play out! We have to find a way to deal with Crouch-Moody, do something about Voldemort, save Cedric… We can't let what we know happened happen again!'

'I agree with you,' Harry said firmly, placing his hands on Hermione's shoulders. 'We'll deal with all this tomorrow, okay? It's past midnight. We should both get some rest.'

Hermione nodded gingerly. Then, her eyebrows shot up. 'Ron!'

'What about him?'

'If I remember correctly, he tried to make up to you after the First Task with some half-hearted apology,' she recalled. 'What're we going to do about him?'

'I can't look at Ron the same way ever again,' Harry replied mournfully, 'I know the "future" hasn't happened yet, so we have no right to exact any "revenge", but…' He sighed. 'Well, I should've realized earlier. He's always been a fair-weather friend. I don't think I'll be accepting his apology so quickly this time around. If he really changes, I'll give him a chance, but…'

'Well, I know who my real friend is,' he finished, looking at Hermione.

Hermione beamed at him and leapt onto his lap. They collapsed onto the sofa and began snogging passionately.

'I don't remember the last time we did this,' Hermione said breathlessly when they finally broke apart. 'Bloody hell, I want to make love – really make love – to you now.'

Harry kissed his wife chastely on her lips. 'We'll do that tomorrow. After the dragon. But we really need some sleep now.'

Hermione nodded and allowed Harry to escort her to the base of the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

'It's so good to be back,' Harry said, 'I missed you.'

'It's good to be back, too.'

And after a quick good-night kiss, Harry and Hermione went their separate ways. The next day would prove trying for both of them.

Harry had a terrible night's sleep. He could not prevent his subconscious mind from wandering to the picture of Hermione, lying dying in a pool of blood. He woke with a start at four in the morning, grief-stricken with the belief that Hermione had indeed died, before he realized that they had somehow been sent back in time, and that she was still alive and would be waiting for him come daybreak.

Harry had forgotten how just how vicious the taunting was in his fourth year. This time, though, he did not let any of that bother him. He knew that most of the school sans Draco Malfoy and his gang would be back on 'his side', whatever that meant, after the conclusion of the First Task. And anyway, both he and Hermione had the magical abilities to destroy any given one of them in a duel.

Just after lunch, Professor McGonagall came into the Great Hall to collect Harry for the First Task. Hermione rose and gave him a quick squeeze and a furtive peck on the lips. Fortunately, Ron was to busy wolfing down his meat pie to notice the display of affection.

'Good luck,' she whispered, 'Remember what we came up with this morning. You'll be fine.'

Harry smiled back at her, feeling quite confident.

McGonagall led him down to the Champions' Tent. 'Don't panic,' she said, 'Keep a cool head. Don't rush into the challenge without thinking. Think of a plan. You know the spells, Potter.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Harry replied politely, 'I'll be fine.'

Professor McGonagall looked surprised but glad at the level of confidence in Harry's voice, and she steeled herself. 'Good luck, Potter.'

Harry nodded his thanks and ducked into the Champions' Tent.

Ludo Bagman held out the bag and the Champions picked their dragons. The selection was the same as he had remembered. Fleur got the Welsh Green, Viktor the Chinese Fireball, Cedric the Swedish Short-Snout, and Harry the Hungarian Horntail.

'Harry, can we have a quick word…outside?' Ludo Bagman whispered conspiratorially. Harry remembered Bagman's true motivations and decided that he was not about to entertain them more than necessary.

'Got a plan?' Bagman asked, 'I could share a few pointers…given that you are the youngest champion here…I'd be happy to help – '

'I'll be fine, Mr. Bagman,' Harry cut him off, 'I have a plan already.'

'Are you sure? Nobody would – '

'I'm completely sure, Mr. Bagman.'

Bagman looked a little bit crestfallen, but left Harry alone and rushed off to the judges' stand.

Harry listened on as Cedric, Fleur, and Krum all faced their respective dragons. Then, his name was called.

He walked confidently out of the front of the tent, his head held high and his wand held firmly in his right hand. He had done this once before, and now, he and Hermione had conspired to give him an ace up his sleeve. He could do this.

He searched the stands, and he saw Hermione. With a pang of revulsion, he saw Ron next to her. He supposed that appearances had to be kept until their relationship could be formally broken off, for neither of them had any desire to maintain their friendship with the redhead. Not after what he had seen Ron do…yesterday? Or ten years into the future? Not after how Ron had abandoned him during the Triwizard, his most trying time.

Harry looked at the dragon. It was as large, as scaly, and as spiked as he had remembered. But he felt no fear this time. He raised his wand.

'Accio Firebolt!'

Harry ducked behind a rock and waited for the right moment. He scanned the skies towards the castle, waiting.

And then he saw it, speeding towards him. It was time to put the second part of his plan into action.

He turned around, back towards the dragon, and took careful aim at its eyes.

He cast a silent Confundus Charm, pumping all his energy into the spell.

The dragon's yellow eyes snapped away from her nest to an empty patch of ground. Harry pointed his wand at a small stone that lay about where the dragon was gazing. He transfigured the stone – purposefully more sloppily than he would have normally done – into a passible imitation of the Golden Egg. He whipped his head around and saw that the Firebolt was fast approaching. He turned back to the Horntail and cast another silent Confundo directly at its eyes.

The Firebolt stopped right behind him. Harry wasted no time and jumped immediately onto his broom. With the dragon Confunded and fixated on the fake Golden Egg, Harry flew to the nest and scooped up the real Golden Egg. He turned his head and after checking that the dragon was still distracted, he turned his broom around and flew beeline to the exit of the arena.

'Look at that!' Bagman yelled, 'Our youngest champion was the quickest to get his egg! Under four minutes. Mightily impressive flying!'

He landed right outside the hospital tent, and Professor McGonagall was waiting for them.

'That was very good use of Transfiguration, Potter,' she remarked, impressed, 'And a Confundus Charm, too?'

Harry nodded.

'Your father would be proud,' McGonagall said, 'He was a natural at Transfiguration, too.'

Harry was moved by the high praise, especially the remark regarding his father. 'Thank you, Professor.'

Professor McGonagall nodded. 'You should go see Madam Pomfrey in the tent before you get your scores.'

Harry ducked into the tent and was immediately accosted by the matron.

'Potter! What do we do with you?' she scolded, 'Always getting yourself into trouble.'

'It's not always my fault,' Harry protested, a little angrily, 'And I'm fine. I'm not hurt.'

Madam Pomfrey ignored his remonstrations and walked around him, casting diagnostic spells and muttering under her breath.

'Well, you seem actually fine for once,' she said finally, 'Alright, go on and get your score.'

Harry walked out of the tent and up the path came Hermione, beaming. Her face looked normal, not the slightest bit pale, and she did not seem at all nervous.

She ran up to him and threw her arms around him. 'I knew you could do it!' she shrieked, 'You were bloody amazing!'

Harry shrugged. 'I was lucky, and I couldn't have done it without you!'

Hermione beamed even wider. 'I think this calls for a private celebration tonight?' she whispered.

Harry felt his face burning. 'Room of Requirement, how about?'

Hermione blushed, too. 'That sounds lovely,' she replied, 'And while we're there, maybe we should…plan a little? And talk about things?'

Harry nodded his agreement. He leaned in and kissed her. This would never get old, he thought. He made a vow to himself to treasure every moment with her and take nothing for granted now that they had gotten a second chance to live.

They were jerked back to reality by a loud throat-clear behind Hermione.

It was Ron.

His face was scarlet in anger, and his expression was murderous. His fists were clenched at his sides and his eyes were glinting in hatred.

'Are you okay?' Harry asked calmly, trying to end the coming row peacefully.

'Okay?' Ron spat, 'Would you be okay if you saw me snogging her?'

'I wouldn't be,' Harry replied, 'But that's because Hermione's my…girlfriend.'

'When?'

'A few days ago.'

Ron was seething now. 'How…how dare you!' he screamed, 'First you cheat your way into this bloody tournament, and now you're snogging her? I was going to come here to apologize, but I don't think I will now, you attention-seeking bastard!'

'Ron, you know I didn't cheat to get into the tournament. I never wanted to enter,' Harry rebutted. To be honest, he had no intention of trying to make Ron see sense – not that Harry thought Ron would, anyway – but he had to at least act like he was making an effort to repair his relationship with Ron to keep up the appearances.

'Right, because I believe you!' Ron shouted, 'Always the same, aren't you, Potter? It always has to be you who gets the glory and fame. And now you're snogging her. At least shove your tongue down an actual girl's throat!'

Hermione was livid now, too. Her face was screwed up in fury and flushed bright red. 'An actual girl, Ronald? So what am I? Just because you never realized that I was a girl doesn't mean nobody else did!'

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but he thought better of the idea. He turned on his heels and stormed off towards the castle.

Harry pulled Hermione into his arms. 'I'm really sorry,' he murmured, 'I should've been more careful. I didn't think he could be that unpleasant.'

'Are you saying you shouldn't have kissed me?'

'No! No!' Harry replied immediately, 'I never regret kissing you. It's just…well…Ron's Ron.'

Hermione chuckled. 'I'm not particularly upset about this, honestly. Are you?'

Harry shook his head. 'Actually, I'm kind of glad he reacted that way. Now we don't have to worry about him anymore.'

Just then, there was a cannon-blast-like sound from the stands. Harry and Hermione both turned to look in the direction of the judges to see the scores.

Madame Maxime raised her wand and out shot a nine.

Crouch then gave Harry another nine.

Dumbledore was next, and he scored Harry a nine, as well.

Ludo Bagman was next. Harry remembered that the last time around, he gave him a ten. This time was no different. The silvery ribbon split in two and formed a one and a zero.

Karkaroff was the final judge. This time, he was even more biased, giving Harry a three.

'No surprises there,' Hermione grumbled. 'Let's go inside the tent. Bagman's calling you.'

Harry followed Hermione back into the Champions' Tent. As Harry remembered, Cedric's face was covered in some sort of orange balm. Bagman bounded into the tent, looking unreasonably giddy.

'Well done, Champions,' Bagman chirped, 'Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the Second Task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February 24th — but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open…see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg — because it will tell you what the Second Task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!'

Harry dragged Hermione out of the tent as quickly as he could, so as to not get accosted by Bagman again.

'You tied with Krum for first again!' Hermione whispered excitedly, 'Oh, you were so amazing, Harry!'

Harry smiled at her. 'Speaking of Krum – '

Hermione smirked knowingly. 'Are you asking me to the Yule Ball now?'

'How did you know?'

'You're not a very complex being,' Hermione teased. 'Not to me, at least.'

Harry huffed. 'Okay. Hermione, would you do me the honour of attending the Yule Ball with me?'

'As a friend, as a date, as your girlfriend, or as your wife?' Hermione ribbed.

'How about all four?'

'Good answer,' she replied, 'And that's a yes for all four, by the way.'

Harry leaned in to kiss her, but just as their lips touched, they were interrupted by a click and a flash of light from to their right.

Harry looked up, and there was Rita Skeeter with her photographer.

'Harry, Harry,' the hated reporter said, 'Do you have any comments about what just happened? An interview would go along nicely with that picture, and you can – '

'Miss Skeeter,' Harry interrupted. He had a sudden inspiration. 'If you would like, we can have a little chat in private. Just me, you, and Hermione.'

Rita looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. 'Certainly, Mister Potter,' she replied excitedly, 'Why don't we find an empty classroom in the castle?'

Harry and Hermione led Rita into the castle. On the way, Hermione nudged Harry in the ribs, clearly asking 'What's going on?'. Harry simply gave her a mysterious smile and led on.

Harry found an empty classroom on the ground floor of the castle. He led Hermione and Rita in before closing and locking the door. He placed a Muffliato on the door, followed by an Animagus transformation-preventing spell on the entire room.

Rita reached into her handbag and pulled out her Quick-Notes Quill. Harry stopped her.

'You won't be needing that, Rita.'

'But how am I supposed to take down notes?'

'You won't be doing any of that, either,' Harry replied, 'We're going to have a bit of a…heartfelt conversation.'

Rita looked livid, but seeing as she had no choice, she sat down on a desk.

'So, Rita, something's been bugging us,' Harry began, determined to make the libellous journalist squirm.

Hermione seemed to have caught on to what Harry was doing. 'And we're trying to control the pest that's responsible for all this,' she added.

'You should know, Rita,' Harry continued, 'We have antennae in every corner of the castle.'

Hermione snickered. 'Harry and I were thinking about this the other day, while we were crushing beetles in Potions class.'

Rita's face was sheet-white and her hands were trembling. Clearly, she understood that the two teens standing before her had somehow found out her secret.

'I…I don't know what you're t-talking about,' Rita stammered.

'Of course you don't, Rita,' Hermione said sweetly, 'Have you ever seen a beetle anywhere that has markings around its eyes that are quite remarkably similar to your glasses?'

'No one will believe you!' Rita shrieked.

'Not if I just tell them, no,' Harry agreed, 'But if I drag you in front of the DMLE…they have methods to force the Animagus change, you know.'

'A few years in Azkaban isn't really worth the libel you're paid oh-so-poorly to publish, is it, Rita?' Hermione added with a smile.

'What do you want from me?' Rita asked abruptly, 'Are you going to out me? Send me to Azkaban?'

'None of those things,' Harry replied, 'Actually, I'm offering you a deal. Not that you have much choice in that matter. The consequences of you turning it down – any part of it or all of it – is likely Azkaban.'

Rita shuddered. 'What do you offer?'

'Simple. No libellous stories about myself, Hermione, Hagrid, Madame Maxime, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood or any of the Weasleys except for Ron, as well as their families and friends.'

'No taking interviews from any members of the Slytherin House without my or Hermione's express approval.'

'And all articles you write must be pre-approved in their entirety by myself or Hermione.'

'In exchange for what?'

'Besides keeping you out of Azkaban?' Harry asked. 'I'm already doing you a huge favour, Rita. But to sweeten the pot. I'll make you my one and only source of exclusive interviews, and for every article that you write concerning any of the people I mentioned earlier – that I approve – you'll be paid one thousand Galleons. Far better than the rates they offer at the Prophet, isn't it?'

'And why should I trust you?'

Hermione scoffed. 'You're not in a position to ask questions, are you, Rita? You accept the deal in its entirety, or you can go for a…ah…extended sabbatical to the North Sea. It's your choice.'

Rita grumbled, but she could not see any way out of this quandary. In fact, the shrewd part of her even thought that it would be quite profitable to ally herself with The Boy-Who-Lived. The headlines she could get out of that deal! 'Fine, I accept.'

'Perfect,' Harry chirped, 'We will be monitoring your compliance, of course. One little beetle leg out of line and – '

'You turn me in to the DMLE,' Rita finished for him, 'I get it.'

'Good. Am I right to be expecting an article on the First Task for pre-approval in a few days?'

Rita glared at him. 'Yes. Yes, you are.'

'Then our business is done,' Harry said with an air of finality, 'I won't delay you from your work, Rita. Go on.'

Rita walked out of the room, but not before shooting one final glare in Harry's direction. He just chuckled.

Harry felt a soft arm wrap around his waist. 'Last time around, it was me who blackmailed her,' Hermione said, faking a pout, 'You're taking away my importance.'

'Maybe I've taken away that one, but I've definitely added more than a few reasons to the list of "Why Hermione Granger is Important to Harry Potter".'

Hermione laughed, a genuine, musical laugh that Harry had not heard for years and years. 'Why do I think one particular reason is your favourite?' she purred.

'Nonsense!' Harry retorted, 'There's more than one reason!' He turned to her. 'There's two right there,' he said, pointing to her chest. 'One there,' pointing to between her legs. 'And one a little ways behind there.'

'Oh, and this is the most important one,' he breathed seductively before he leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

'I'm kidding, by the way,' Harry said after he had pulled away, pointing out the obvious, 'There are so many reasons why you're important to me, it'd take the rest of my life to list them all.'

'I think you've said enough to flatter me for years on end,' Hermione replied with a small smirk, 'You've been staring at my tits since this morning. Why don't we go to the seventh floor and unwind a little?'

Hermione did not need to pull very hard to drag Harry out of the classroom.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, contemplating. This was not helped by the fact that he had to constantly stop Fawkes from stealing his precious sherbet lemons. That had involved casting numerous protective charms around the bowl that he had to remove by hand each and every time he craved one of the sour sweets.

Such as now.

Albus prided himself on being a great wizard, though he would never say it out loud. It was always good to be humble in front of others.

Being blessed as he was with exceptional observational skills, he did not fail to notice Harry Potter's spell-work that morning in the First Task. There was more going on than an impressive but still reasonably doable transfiguration, and the Summoning Charm, though a little more powerful than most, was nothing out of the ordinary for a fourth-year.

It was the behaviour of the dragon that interested him. It looked as if it had been…Confunded. Albus knew that there were very few places where spells could affect a dragon, and the eye was one of them. He had seen Harry discreetly pointing his wand at the dragon's eyes after he had summoned his Firebolt.

What he did not hear, though, was the incantation 'Confundo'.

Had young Harry learned non-verbal spell casting? That was not supposed to be taught until the sixth year. Where was he supposed to have learned that skill? All fingers pointed to Miss Granger, but she was but a fourth-year herself. How could she have taught Harry?

Albus would have to investigate. Harry could not grow too powerful. It would impede the Greater Good if Harry came too much into his own. How would Albus manipulate – er, guide – him to fulfil his destiny if he did not trust Albus's protection and manipulation – er, guidance?

Albus had no reason to be too worried, though. Harry probably only learned how to cast one or two spells that way. After all, he was only fourteen, and his magic was not fully developed yet. There would still be a lot of time to get him firmly under Albus's control – er, mentorship.

Albus was also worried about Alastor. He had been behaving oddly recently. He would have to investigate that eventually, but Alastor was a paranoid old man, and Albus supposed that his paranoia had simply gotten worse in his old age. And besides, to not let things play out would certainly go against the Greater Good.

He had much better things to do with his time, anyway, such as knitting woollen socks, sucking on sherbet lemons, or staring at old photos of Gellert. He needed to get on with those things.

A/N: As you have seen from the previous chapter, this story will feature Dark!Powerful!H/Hr. I hope that you understand from the Prologue and Chapter 1 why they are 'dark'. I also wanted to give a little clarification with Ron in the previous chapter. I do not think Ron is malicious or evil, but he could be weak. Losing his family likely pushed him over the edge, causing him to believe in whatever rubbish the Death Eaters were spewing. Yes, there will be Ron bashing in this story, but Ron will not be evil.